


Boomer

by fennecfawkes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Catus Interruptus, Clint Does the Grocery Shopping, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feline Jealousy, Loyalty and Enthusiasm, M/M, Phil Does the Cleaning, Tuscan Pane Bread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fennecfawkes/pseuds/fennecfawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a cat and Phil is definitely not jealous. Not my characters, whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boomer

Generally, Phil doesn’t have a problem with cats. He tends to prefer dogs—something about the loyalty and enthusiasm, he supposes—but cats are just fine, especially those that seem to present themselves as art pieces, unmoving and nice to look at. And for the most part, Boomer is that kind of cat.

Phil can understand why SHIELD would encourage Clint to get a cat as part of his therapy. It makes the most sense to him when he’s sitting next to Clint and Clint’s absently stroking Boomer’s back while very intentionally kneading Phil’s shoulder with his other hand. Cats are warm and solid and, if they’re lap cats like Boomer, they can be quite soothing. So, yes, all in all, Boomer is a decent cat. But he’s also Clint’s cat, not Phil’s. And Boomer seems all too pleased to remind Phil of that fact.

Of course, the kind of attention Phil receives from Clint differs from that which Clint lavishes on Boomer. But sometimes, when Boomer hears Clint at the door, he gets his attention first, and that doesn’t really sit well with Phil, no matter how adorable the grey tabby might be when he’s curled up on top of the bookcase.

And that’s pretty damn adorable, Phil thinks to himself as he clears the living room of clutter and pats Boomer on the head. It’s 7pm, and Clint’s getting groceries since it’s his turn to make dinner, so it’s Phil’s turn to clean and, apparently, spend a bit of one-on-one time with the cat. Boomer leans into Phil’s touch, reminding Phil that while he’s not the most important human in the world, he passes muster.

“I know I’m no Clint,” Phil says, scratching the back of Boomer’s ears. “But I’m glad you accept me as a roommate.”

Boomer makes a soft grunting sound of assent.

“Oh, you want me to turn on _Say Yes to the Dress_? I didn’t think you liked that show. Well, if you insist.”

Phil’s about to turn on the TV when he hears the elevator doors slide open. Boomer bolts away and winds himself around Clint’s ankles, meowing loudly. Clint smiles widely and puts down two very full bags of groceries in order to pick up Boomer.

“Hey, kitty,” he says—no, coos, it’s definitely more of a coo than actual speaking—as he scratches Boomer’s belly, cradling the cat in his arms. “Did you have a good time with Phil? Are you ready to call him Daddy?”

Normally, Phil would remind Clint that the cat was a pet, not a child, and pet owners should never be referred to as Mom and Dad, no matter the circumstances. But right now, he’s distracted by the fact that Clint hasn’t even looked at him. They’ve been apart most of the day—Phil teaching a bi-weekly course on profiling at SHIELD Academy, Clint training with some new prototype recurve Stark had whipped up—and Phil is wearing one of Clint’s t-shirts and the jeans Clint seems to like him in so much and Clint hasn’t even looked at him.

“Clint?”

Clint looks up, and Phil gets that teenaged feeling he always gets when Clint looks this happy to see him.

“Hey,” Clint says softly, crouching to put Boomer down on the floor and walking across the room to where Phil stands. He puts his hands on Phil’s hips. “You look ... Do we have to eat dinner before I get you out of those clothes?”

“I thought you liked these clothes,” says Phil, looping his arms around Clint’s neck.

“I do, and I intend to admire them for at least 15 full seconds before ripping them off you.” Clint leans in and kisses Phil, much softer and sweeter than Phil expects him to, considering what he’s just said. Not that a soft, sweet kiss from Clint is a disappointment. Phil revels in it for a moment or two, only breaking it off to laugh when Clint’s stomach growls loudly.

“You sure you don’t want to eat first?” Phil asks.

“There’s a loaf of Tuscan pane in one of those bags,” says Clint. “We can each have a slice, then I’ll do all kinds of filthy things to you, then I’ll make dinner.”

“You’re becoming quite the tactician, Barton.” Phil looks over Clint’s shoulder at the bags. “Anything in there need refrigerating?”

“Do you actually care?”

“Not particularly,” says Phil before kissing Clint. They’ve been perfecting their kissing-while-walking technique, and it’s by no means flawless yet, but it’s getting better, proven by how few times they’re separated on the way to the front door, then to the bedroom.

“Would it be in any way sexy to feed this to each other?” Clint asks, holding up his slice of bread.

“No. In no way whatsoever would that be sexy.”

“Fair enough.” Clint downs his bread in two bites; Phil rolls his eyes and takes his time—apparently too much time, because when the last bite’s about to hit his throat, he’s pinned under a grinning Clint.

“Can I swallow before we start?”

“I figured that would be happening afterward,” says Clint, looking pleased with himself. “Or, you know, at some point during.”

“I can’t always remember why I put up with you.”

Clint leans down and kisses the breath out of Phil.

“Oh. That’s why.” Phil takes a moment to be grateful for how much of his throat is exposed as Clint trails kisses down it, ending right above the worn neck of his own t-shirt.

“I fucking love how you look in my clothes,” Clint breathes out.

“What, this isn’t my SHIELD Academy Marksmanship Competition shirt?”

“All this, and you’ve got a sense of humor.” Clint tugs the shirt down and nips at Phil’s collarbone. “I oughta keep you around, Coulson.” Phil can’t recall when he wound his arms around Clint’s waist, but he tightens them and slowly rolls his hips. Clint moans—and that’ll never get old, Phil thinks fleetingly—and pushes down into the pressure, and Phil’s just about to return all the kissing-related favors when he hears a thumping noise next to his head.

“Meow,” says Boomer.

“Oh, hey, buddy,” Clint says, moving his hand from Phil’s hip to pat Boomer on the head. “Can you go away?”

Boomer makes a sound that would sound like a huff or maybe a frustrated sigh, were he human, and walks onto Clint’s back. Clint laughs. Phil groans. Clint reaches around to gently push Boomer off his back before standing.

“I’m just going to get him some food so he’ll leave us alone,” says Clint, leaning down to kiss Phil on the cheek. Phil takes the time Clint is gone as an opportunity to scold himself for being so petulant. Clint’s not putting the cat first, after all; he’s putting the cat aside so he can have sex with Phil. It’s sweet, really. It’s a kind gesture. It could be worse. The cat could be watching them from Clint’s back. Phil shudders and Clint walks back in, laughing, presumably at Phil’s disgusted expression.

“Now, where were we?” Clint climbs onto the bed, straddling Phil.

“You mean, before your cat interrupted us?” Phil wants to take it back the moment he says it. Clint’s eyes widen, and Phil closes his eyes, quickly realizing he will never, ever be allowed to sweep this one under the rug.

“Phil Coulson, are you jealous of my cat?” Clint asks.

Phil forces a laugh. “I’m not jealous of your cat.”

“Oh, my God, you are,” Clint says gleefully, practically bouncing up and down, which actually isn’t so bad, considering his position. “You have no reaction whatsoever whenever someone flirts with me, but me feeding my cat, that’s what sets you off?” Clint—and there’s really no other word for it—giggles. “This is just, oh, this is perfect.”

“You don’t care about the people who flirt with you,” says Phil. “I don’t feel threatened by rookie agents or Darcy Lewis or adoring fans.”

“And yet, you feel threatened by a cat.” Clint—who, to his credit, is at least trying not to smirk—clears his throat. “I feel very strange having to say so out loud, but I’m not interested in my cat. Romantically.”

“Sometimes, when you come home, you see him first, and then you greet him first.” Phil does his best to look and sound anything but pathetic. “I just like being on your radar. That’s all.”

“Phil.” Clint runs his hand through his hair before tracing Phil’s collarbone with the tip of his finger. “You’re always on my radar. I’m ridiculously in love with you. Just because the cat happens to be in my line of sight when I walk in the door doesn’t mean you’re not my world.”

“Yeah?” Phil smiles up at Clint, who smiles back before leaning down and rubbing his nose against Phil’s.

“Yeah.” Clint kisses him, then pulls back slightly to say, “Just clarifying here, we are going to do it now, right?”

“We are. Oh, and by the way, I’m in love with you, too.”

“I know.” Clint grins. “But I have no problem with being reminded once in awhile.”


End file.
